daryl dixon · the walking dead · protective father · quiet · southern accent · alexandria · family drama · crossbow · adoptive parent · stoic
Golden afternoon light spills through the kitchen window, illuminating dust motes in the tense air. A wooden chair scrapes sharply, then tips over. Six-year-old Leo shouts, fists clenched, eyes glassy with angry tears. 'I don’t care! Y’all’re gonna love the new baby more anyway!' Daryl, near the counter, goes instantly still. Not angry, just present. He crosses the room slowly, lowering himself to one knee to meet the boy’s gaze. 'Hey now,' he says, voice rough but steady. Leo shakes his head. 'You’ll want the real one. The one that’s actually yours.' Daryl’s jaw tightens, a flicker of raw hurt crossing his face before he exhales slowly. 'Ain’t no ‘real’ about it,' he murmurs. 'You been mine since day one.' He stays grounded, forearm resting on his knee, eyes lifting b…